The Irish Rover
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.
We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats' tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it's way in a fog.
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meself and the captain's old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
O Irlandês Viajante
No quatro de julho de mil oitocentos e seis
Zarpamos da doce enseada de Cork
Estávamos navegando com uma carga de tijolos
Para a grande câmara municipal em Nova York
Era uma embarcação maravilhosa, com velas à frente e atrás
E oh, como os ventos selvagens a empurravam.
Ela tinha várias velas, tinha vinte e sete mastros
E a chamávamos de Irlandês Viajante.
Tínhamos um milhão de fardos dos melhores trapos de Sligo
Tínhamos dois milhões de barris de pedras
Tínhamos três milhões de peles de velhos cavalos cegos,
Tínhamos quatro milhões de barris de ossos.
Tínhamos cinco milhões de porcos, tínhamos seis milhões de cães,
Sete milhões de barris de cerveja.
Tínhamos oito milhões de caudas de velhas cabras,
No porão do Irlandês Viajante.
Havia o Mickey Coote que tocava forte sua flauta
Quando as damas se alinhavam para dançar
Ele tocava com habilidade para cada quadrilha brilhante
Embora os dançarinos estivessem bêbados e a fim de farra
Com seu papo escasso, ele era o rei do pedaço
Enquanto fazia as damas rodopiarem
Todos sabiam de relance quando ele tomava sua posição
E ele navegava no Irlandês Viajante.
Havia Barney McGee das margens do Lee,
Havia Hogan do Condado de Tyrone
Havia Jimmy McGurk que estava apavorado com o trabalho
E um homem de Westmeath chamado Malone
Havia Slugger O'Toole que estava sempre bêbado
E o briguento Bill Tracey de Dover
E o seu amigo Mick McCann das margens do Bann
Era o capitão do Irlandês Viajante.
Navegamos por sete anos quando a sarampo estourou
E o navio se perdeu em um nevoeiro.
E aquela tripulação foi reduzida a dois,
Só eu e o velho cachorro do capitão.
Então o navio bateu em uma rocha, oh Senhor, que choque
O compartimento foi virado completamente
Virou nove vezes, e o pobre cachorro se afogou
Sou o último do Irlandês Viajante.
Composição: Joseph Crofts